They entered the Temple of Hollow Eyes at midnight.
No prayers. No chants. Just silence so heavy it made Zaire's lungs burn.
The entrance was carved from black stone that dripped blood only visible under soulfire. Every step inside was like walking into someone's memory, one that didn't want to be remembered.
Lirien swept ahead, two blades drawn. Kael's hands hovered over his ash-pulse sigils. Revyn muttered a death lullaby, soul jars clinking on his belt.
"This place eats the truth out of your mouth," Kael whispered. "Don't say anything real."
"What happens if you do?" Lirien asked.
"It becomes real," Revyn answered. "And then it tries to kill you."
Zaire led them forward anyway.
Each corridor pulsed with whispers not voices. Just echoes. Of choices. Of regrets.
Then the altar appeared.
At its center: a mirror taller than a man, cracked down the middle.
It didn't reflect them.
It showed Eira. Chained. Eyes glowing. Mouth sewn shut with light.
Zaire staggered forward before Kael could stop him.
"Wait!"
Too late.
As Zaire stepped into the light of the mirror, the altar shattered and the air screamed.
A blast of violet energy knocked the others back.
And from the broken glass, something stepped out.
It was him.
But not the same.
Paler. Bloodless. Marked with ritual scars.
Eyes empty of soul but full of power.
And stitched to his side was Eira's voice. Not her body. Not her mind. Just her voice.
"Zaire…" it whispered, in that tone only she had ever used.
"You shouldn't have come back."
Zaire froze.
"What did they do to her?" he hissed.
The reflection smiled.
"She broke herself to protect you. And we harvested every shard."
The doppelgänger moved fast. Their blades clashed in a blink, sparks flying, steel singing like screams. Zaire's magic flared too wild, too raw. The mirror creature absorbed it.
"She is my soul now," the mirror-Zaire hissed, slamming him against the wall. "She begged me to kill you before you make her remember again."
"Liar," Zaire spat blood. "She'd never"
Then a pulse hit the room.
A pure, white pulse.
The mirror behind them fractured again, but instead of another creature, a soft glow emerged.
A voice.
Small. Shaking.
Hers.
"Zaire… don't save me."
Everything in him broke.
"Eira? No!"
"They're using my soul. If you pull me out, they win. They become me. Let me stay broken… so you can stay alive."
"I won't lose you," he whispered.
"Then don't find me."
The mirror pulsed one last time and shattered completely.
The creature collapsed into dust.
Silence.
Kael rushed forward, scanning the ruins with wide, trembling hands.
"That wasn't a memory. That was her soul. A living fragment. Bound and tortured."
Revyn was silent for once.
Zaire stood, fists shaking, breath shallow.
"She told me not to come."
Lirien sheathed her daggers, face unreadable.
"Do we listen?"
Zaire turned, eyes blazing.
"No."
Then Kael frowned, kneeling at the base of the altar.
"There's another sigil here. Fresh. Hidden beneath the ashes."
He scraped at the dust. Revealed a mark. Familiar. Too familiar.
Zaire's eyes narrowed.
"That's the mark of the Crimson Hand."
Revyn cursed low.
"Someone fed them our route."
Zaire stared at the mark. Cold crept into his spine.
"Only four people knew we were coming here."
Lirien looked at Kael. Kael looked at Revyn. Revyn looked at Zaire.
No one spoke.
But the silence screamed louder than words.